


Party in the Back

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Drunkenness, M/M, Mullets, PWP, Rimming, Sex on a pool table
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1482772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, it’s not just my mullet that’s a party in the back.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party in the Back

Dean did not think he could take anyone seriously that actually had a mullet.

Like full on fucking red neck rocking mullet.

Course, this dude was supposed to be some freaky smart hunter support system kind of baddie tracking computer guy. Still, he had a mullet, and slept on a pool table. 

“Dude, a mullet?”

He couldn't help it. At least he didn’t get a glare from the guy, if anything he seemed amused.

“Hey man, don’t knock the hair. It’s classic. Business in front, party in the back.”

There was a dramatic flair of a hand gesture around his hair while the guy – Ash wasn’t it – beckoned them to a messy back room that must be his office of sorts, some impressive computer displays and messy papers strewn around the shoe box room that could barely fit three grown men. 

Okay, so the guy was totally freaky smart, definitely a tech genius, and Dean could barely understand half of the computer babble – Sammy definitely fared better with that – but he stuck around to connect the dots on all the signs they were supposed to be looking out for in tracking old Yellow Eyes - that was Dean’s specialty, on the ground, in the fray, hand to hand. Sam and Ash could have their computer fun. 

Both Dean and Sam were kicked out shortly after they’d given over all their intel, Ash claiming that the master needed his space to work. That saw the two of them at the bar working out the awkward kinks in the air between them and Jo. Dean’s jaw still smarted where she had clocked him; girl was tiny but feisty, he could respect that. Damn shame there was bad blood between their families, but it seemed pretty damn old to Dean, no need to be keeping it round. He figured a good meal and a few drinks ought to fix that.

Several hours later he was more loosened up but still mostly sober when Ash came out, waving off their eager questions before they could even ask them, saying that he had put all his logistics into the computer and the program needed to run, they’d have some data to work by in the morning. Dean scowled and told him to work faster. Ash just grabbed a can of budlight from behind the bar, punctured the base and pursed his lips around it while pulling the tab and shotgunned the whole thing in 3 seconds flat. That, was mildly impressive.

Several hours later, Dean had a new friend and Sam had a new bitch face.

They may or may not have been knocking back drinks since late evening, but they kept it up till all the patrons of the bar had staggered their way out the door. Course Ellen shot a frown of disapproval Dean’s way more than a few times, but she seemed used to Ash’s habits, and the twenties he plunked down seemed sufficient. 

Eventually Dean realized the two of them were the only ones left in the bar, he couldn’t remember when Sammy had gone for his beauty sleep, but come to think of it the last few hours kind of blinked in and out. Maybe he shouldn’t be drinking so much of the hard stuff, but dammit a man had a reputation to maintain and Ash could knock back whiskey like it was juice. 

Drunk was an understatement. They were shit faced.

Somehow the conversation turned to regaling each other with their weirdest sexual exploits. Dean believed this had something to do with the pressing question of how someone with a mullet gets laid on a regular basis, which earned him another lecture on the finer points of mulletdom, as well as some weird ass stories. 

Ash recalled a time with a geriatric lady that involved pink silk panties – on him – and a jar of peanut butter.

Dean had his own panties stories, plural – not just Rhonda.

Ash countered with a night that involved the use of a wooden oar as a paddle.

Dean raised the ante with a story involving a a tutu, a strangers coffee table, and waking up in a park half naked covered in multi colored sharpie dicks. 

Ash came back with a story involving a purple jelly strap on and fuzzy handcuffs.

Dean regaled him with the time he had sex with a park ranger in the Appalaichan mountains - not that risque, but hey it was really scenic.

Ash told him about the time he ended up being the cookie.

Dean wasn’t sure when this turned to gay sexual exploits but he would not be outdone by a bukake. He reached into the depths of late teen sexual exploration to remember the time he wandered into a gay bar that happened to be having a foam party which turned into a foam pit orgy.

Ash still won with a south of the border story that started with a bottle of tequila, proceeded to the wearing of a luchadore mask and cape, and ended with the inappropriate use of a taco.

Correction, tacos, plural. 

Dean figured they ought to break open a bottle of tequila themselves. Tequila loved him. Tequila gave him wonderful ideas. Tequila was his friend.

They nabbed a bottle from behind the bar, tuned the jukebox to some Metallica, and headed to the pool table for a game. Given the laws of physics were currently fucking with Dean playing pool seemed like a lofty goal. However, sitting a bar chatting away his drunkenness wasn’t his style, he liked to move, like to do, liked to have fun. 

Neither of them were really stripes or solids, they were just fucking around and counting it a win if they actually managed to hit a ball in front of them with the cue. Dean was still laughing his ass off at Ash’s stories, he liked how easy the other guy was with a smile, how laid back and non judgmental he was. Ash was like, zen, or something, whatever the hell that meant. But he was funny, and damn when did they polish off half the bottle of tequila.

Dean was lining up a shot lilting to the right like he was going to topple, but an unsteady presence was next to him, hip to hip, and he wasn’t sure who was holding up who. Giving a strong stroke he managed to knock a few balls together and when one swished into a pocket he gave a celebratory whoop at his drunken prowess. Ash clapped him on the back and slurred out something but between the others inability to speak straight and Dean’s inability to hear straight, it was kinda a crap shoot. 

Wobbling on his feet, Dean licked his lips and tried to focus on Ash but there were a few Ash’s in front of him. Reaching out and waving his hand through air till he thunked against the real Ash’s shoulder, Dean smiled and mumbled something about more than one Ash being dangerous.

He did not miss the next words out of Ash’s mouth, no, throughout all eternity he would remember this phrase. 

“You know, it’s not just my mullet that’s a party in the back.”

Dean tried not to burst into a fit of laughter, he really tried, but Ash’s face was cracked wide open in a grin, and dammit Dean might suspect the guy got the haircut just so he could use that pick up line. It was fucking stupid enough to work because anyone with the balls and humor to use it had to be given a shot. 

Dean blinked when there were hands on his crotch. Ash’s hands, slender but firm as they went straight for the button on Dean’s jeans, popping them open and sliding down the zipper to sink under the fabric. It didn’t take a blink for Dean to press back, turning them around and pushing a leg between Ash’s legs to hoist him up and spread him perched on the edge of the pool table, pushing up between his thighs. 

Dean had learned how to do this long ago. He learned how to shut down his mind with a warm willing body, how to push back the shadows with expanses of exposed skin soft lit with neon bar lights, how to drown out the shouts of the dying and pleas of the wounded with punched out groans and panting breath. Yeah, this body would do real nice, Ash knew what he wanted, knew what he was doing, and if it was a matter of convenience for the both of them then it was no harm no foul. 

Pulled out of his drunken reverie as he mauled the other, managing to tear both their shirts up over their heads and discard them, fish a single serve pack of lube and a condom out of his pocket to toss on the table, dig his fingers into the soft smooth skin of Ash’s sides, Dean startled when he was manhandled back and up onto the table. Dude was stronger than he looked, scrawny and lithe but damn, Dean was on his back and sliding against the smooth green felt of the pool table while his pants were dragged off.

Before he knew it Ash was straddled over his chest with a wicked glint in his eyes giving a few quick tugs to his hard dick. He took haircuts either way too seriously or not seriously at all, cause it did not stop at the mullet. He was manscaped. Like full on, mostly smooth except for a – was it still called landing strip on a guy?- patch of hair shaped like a lightning bolt leading down to his cock. 

“You like to top man?”

“Hell yeah, swing that little ass up here, I’ll get you ready.”

Ash swung his legs around, straddling backward, falling forward a few times and holding himself up on Dean’s thighs while he back up, broad calloused hands settling on his hips to pull him just where Dean wanted. 

Dean worked his tongue back in his mouth to pool spit while he got Ash settled, pulling one of the pastiest white asses he’d ever seen back with his strong arms looping up over Ash’s hips. Leaning forward and licking a broad swathe up, swirling his tongue around the hole and pushing his spit out, he was uncoordinated but enthusiastic at least, and his body knew what it was doing even if his mind didn’t.

Mumbling an ‘aw fuck yeah’ that was lost against the other’s skin when he felt a hot mouth wrap around his dick, Dean jerked his hips up a few times to demonstrate just how much he appreciated the action, going to town on Ash’s ass with more tongue as a means of saying ‘thank ye kindly for puttin my dick in yer mouth’, cause really, there was a polite way to go about doing this.

Pool was a fun game, pool tables were a fun place to fuck, maybe a little hard sure, but the felt was smooth and soft against his back while he writhed up into Ash’s mouth and started fucking his ass with two fingers. Ash was more than happy to oblige, pushing back against Dean with jerky motions, his hard cock slapping against Dean’s chest as he tried to maintain some focus on the blow job but really, he seemed a lot more distracted by getting fingered.

Dean did have nice fingers, maybe a little calloused but the nails were clipped neat, they were strong fingers, agile, from years of cocking back the safety on a gun and flipping knives round in his grasp. They were thick , long fingers that knew when to twist and where to press, tongue still lapping eagerly at the twitching ring of muscles and pushing between the pull of his fingers. 

Ash pulled off his cock with a few jerks of the hand, sliding slick with lots of spit and Dean’s hips pumped up into it. Dean just kept working while Ash stumbled with his hands over the pool table looking for the items Dean tossed there with his excellent forethought before jeans were lost to the fray. Ash straightened up with an exaggerated ‘Aha!’, turning himself around and practically tossing the goods at Dean.

Dean could not even count how many times he had rolled a rubber on his dick while piss fucking drunk out of his mind – mostly because he had more blackouts than he could count – but he knew what to do even if he couldn’t focus his vision. Ash was floundering next to him, having fallen over on the table trying to get turned around. A few awkward gropes, slips of skin slick with perspiration, moment of confusion regarding whose limbs where whose, and Dean was covered, lubed up, with Ash squirming down on his lap.

Like all good drunk hook ups, it was hot, it was messy, and it did not last long. Dean gripped onto Ash’s slim hips and bucked up into him liked a pissed off rodeo bull, Ash just held on for dear life and rode him like a pro, swaying back and forth with it letting the force rock through his body and softening to it instead of fighting it. 

Though he might not remember it in the morning, Dean felt like he saw the face of God and knew the truths of the universe when his orgasm rocked through him. 

A body collapsed on him, sweaty and flushed hot and quite possibly giggling, but it all faded to black.

-

“Oh, goddamit Dean, seriously, ew.”

Dean blinked eyes that were super glued shut with crust and saw a tall twitchy shape in the door try to come in the room, then turn aside, then turn again, then leave. Fucking Sam. Dean was torn between probably needing to wake up, and needing to fall back into sweet, sweet blackness where he couldn’t hear the high pitched screaming of his dying liver. 

But Ash shifted next to him, pushing his naked body up on one elbow, long trails of mullet falling over a shoulder.

“Man, we should probably clean the spunk off the pool table before Ellen comes down and shoots us.”

Dean tried to say something coherent, rolling over dangerously close to the edge of the pool table while gravity attempted to suck him in and make him suffer more, glancing around the bar.

“Where the fuck are my pants?”


End file.
